


Miles From Where You Are

by ilookedback



Series: sleepless nights [3]
Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst, Blowjobs, Heartache, Infidelity, M/M, Spoilers for Season 2 and 3, Wrist Pinning, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25957594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilookedback/pseuds/ilookedback
Summary: What it feels like is: the calm of quiet mornings and Steve stealing the bacon off his plate. Soft, dry lips brushed over the back of his neck above his collar, a firm hand wrapped steadying around his elbow, close and casual in passing. Learning what the soft sheets on Steve’s bed feel like and realizing they’re only such high quality because Connie picked them out; feeling grateful to her for it, glad that it means Steve has a soft place to land his head even if he still doesn’t always sleep easy.
Relationships: Steve Murphy/Javier Peña
Series: sleepless nights [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880401
Comments: 31
Kudos: 132





	Miles From Where You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. Title is from Set the Fire to the Third Bar by Snow Patrol.

It doesn’t feel like dating, and it doesn’t feel like an affair, even though by all rights it should, considering that Steve still wears his ring and his voice goes soft and warm and loving on the phone calls with Connie that Javi overhears. She calls for Javi sometimes, too, and even then he doesn’t feel as bad and heavy with guilt as he knows he should. He barely hesitates when she asks how Steve is doing, _are you taking care of him_ , tells her _yes, yeah I’m doing my best_ , and it doesn’t feel like a lie even if it doesn’t feel like the truth either.

What it feels like is: the calm of quiet mornings and Steve stealing the bacon off his plate. Soft, dry lips brushed over the back of his neck above his collar, a firm hand wrapped steadying around his elbow, close and casual in passing. Learning what the soft sheets on Steve’s bed feel like and realizing they’re only such high quality because Connie picked them out; feeling grateful to her for it, glad that it means Steve has a soft place to land his head even if he still doesn’t always sleep easy.

It feels like Steve’s long fingers wrapped around his dick and his voice sounding raspy from going down on him. It feels like bone and tendon shifting under his palms when Javi pins his wrists to the bed and holds him down, grinding against him with too little pressure, lazy mouth exploring the length of his neck while Steve’s voice goes ragged at the edges, begging Javi to let him come. It feels like Steve tighter than anything around Javi’s fingers, hips bucking helplessly to get him in deeper, while Steve’s cock is in his mouth, long and hitting salty and aching at the back of his throat. It’s Steve asking Javi to fuck him and Javi’s heart pounding too fast at the thought, telling him _no_ because it feels like too much, and giving in a week later when Steve asks again and says _please_. It’s sinking into him tight and hot and watching his eyes widen and his face crumple desperately overwhelmed, going slow and combing his fingers through Steve’s hair and waiting for his breath to even out before giving him more. It’s Steve coming so hard a drop of it hits the bottom of his chin and Javi shamelessly sucking it off his skin to taste him. It feels like heat in his cheeks and his neck and deep in his gut when Steve’s low voice drawls filthy words in his ear, rumbling through him until Javi feels like he’s vibrating with need.

It feels the same as ever at the office, careful normal distance between them, only ever a casual hand clapped onto his shoulder. It feels like the fingers on that hand gripping subtly through his shirt to press into the bite mark bruising his clavicle. It’s shared cigarettes passed back and forth, feeling like a stolen, secret kiss.

It just feels like Steve, always still hovering too tall over him, entitled to his space, but the space is bigger now, encompasses Javi’s bed and his shower and his kitchen and his mouth. It’s the space in his lap on the couch where Steve straddles him, just like that first night when _Javi started it_ , except this time Steve gets to touch him and he grips them both in his hand and strokes them off together and ruins Javi’s favorite shirt from both of them coming all over the front of it.

It feels like respite, because it’s not the biggest or worst secret Javi’s keeping.

It’s guilt and pain when he’s suspended and sent home. Deep, bitter joy when Steve calls to tell him Escobar is dead.

It’s. The sharp burn of whiskey in his throat trying to anesthetize the surprise heartache that hits when he realizes this means it’s all over and Steve is leaving Colombia to be home with his wife. It’s a hollow spot in his chest when Connie calls him and thanks him again for taking care of Steve, and a quick flash of pride at knowing that he’s handed him back to her still in one piece. It’s resignation when she tells him to come out and visit them and he lies and tells her he will.

It feels like the relief of distraction when he’s reassigned to Cali, one mission seen to completion and a new one now at hand.

Steve doesn’t call, but he writes him letters sometimes, scrawled in his parochial school cursive, and he tells him that Olivia is walking now and his job in the States is almost boring with how few car bombs there are— _not that I’m complaining but it’s funny the things you get used to_ —and he’s never been as good a liar as Javi is so he writes _I miss you_ before he signs them off, except then when he signs them he writes _yours, Steve_. And that feels like about the biggest lie Javi’s ever seen.


End file.
